


Téir abhaile riú Mhearai

by adelindschade



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Multi, and I have no energy for a fix-it piece, and sisterly bonding, because everyone needs a cheer up, just some happy fluff, sister to the rescue, so enjoy some dancing and, some happy charlotte!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelindschade/pseuds/adelindschade
Summary: As a sister should, Alison reminds Charlotte of what matters: family and a night out to dance the cares away





	Téir abhaile riú Mhearai

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration was Celtic Woman's Kesh Inn, Téir Abhaile Riú, and plenty of others if you want to look around! A Happy Irish Beat to Make a Simple Girl Throw Off Her Shoes!

_A sad Charlotte pains my heart. There isn’t much I can do but give her some temporarily happiness – abet, a cameo from her dearest sister who knows her the best. _

_Experimental First Person – alas, hope I do Alison justice. _

When they were children, Alison and Charlotte were the first to jump into the circle as the first whine of the fiddler’s string. Though they’ve outgrown plenty of shoes since then, they had plenty more to make do.

Charlotte was a much livelier dancer than she, Alison mused fondly. How Sanditon – _no, how the Parkers_ – cut her heels, she aptly blamed. That would not do, not in the slightest. Though she protested, how could her sister deny Alison’s persistence? Mutual love coaxed her from her somber solitude and out the door, lead urgently by Alison to the tavern.

Alison insisted they forego their Sunday best in favor of vibrant rose-pink dresses – they did her sister so well, while Alison reveled in her most affectionate color.

Their father would throw a stink, but their brothers would meet them; perhaps they’d stir more trouble as a clan than unchaperoned, Alison chuckled. It brought a meek smile – but a smile nonetheless – onto Charlotte’s glum face.

As soon as they stepped inside, they shed their coats as the warmth of the fire was strong and ready. Their brothers beckoned them back and out of sight, protected by a humble wall of familiar faces that enveloped her dear sister with the sincerest of embraces and kind words. They parlayed a drink, reacquainted with the neighbor boys and daughter, and welcomed Charlotte out with a charitable pint.

Slowly but surely, Charlotte softened and offered the largest smile yet, much to Alison’s joy.

A steady drum initiated the challenged – one her sister could never ignore.

Alison rose her skirt high enough to skim over her heels, showcasing a series of steps – first deliberately paced, then furious taps along the wood, and finalizing with a victorious kick and stomp. A smug expression settled on her face; a perked brow urging her sister to join her.

Charlotte fixed her face – eyes set, nose scrunched, and slowly a sure smile grew; She breached the circle with a new sense of confidence that had their audience enamored. She mimicked the same motion, hoisting the skirt high enough to feature the points of her shoes and started a slow succession of intricate steps, then cutting to a high jump, which – aided by the hasty fiddler – built up to wild pattering of feet that scarcely scuffed the floor, credited to her impeccable swiftness with astounding accuracy.

A natural and talented dancer indeed, Alison gleamed. Charlotte just needed a push and who better than a sister to spur some friendly competition?

They joined together in a paired routine – the one that they had practiced since childhood and came as natural as walking; prancing from left to right, a step forward with a yip and a jump, and spinning twice – swishing their dress dramatically – and spinning twice again in the other direction to regard the other side with the same theatrical fashion. They would trade sides, spinning thrice only to face each other, clasps hands, and twirl the other one, then return the favor. The original goal was to make the other dizzy, but those days were gone: they had long since proven to be only professionals in the art.

The crowd joined, with women declaring their own ideas and dancing in their claimed section of wood. The floor felt like it would cave with the sudden spree of feet and eager taps that commenced.

A swish of skirts followed, triggering a wild sea of colors, hair, and laughter amongst the gallant ladies. The interwoven women weaved within and around each other, smiling contagiously. Alison never strayed too far from Charlotte; reveling in her sister’s genuine delight as she spun wildly without a care in the world, so much so that she abandoned her shoes.

Alison was a natural siren – singing along with the drum in a light soprano that had garnered the admiration of a local boy she had cast her sights on months ago. Charlotte joined her side, mimicking her movement of swished skirts and timed jumps, whilst providing a wonderful harmony.

Their brothers clapped along, spurring them along while bellowing their own tunes of giddiness.

A line had begun – fed under a bridge of arms and plenty cheers; the sisters paired themselves behind an enthusiastic couple who had set the bold example. A fiddler fed a fast beat, prompting a quick prance and demanding an audience of equal enthusiasm. They interlocked hands and scarcely parted, spinning and galloping out of fashion but in tremendous fun.

Long gone were the restrictive balls of high society, Alison imagined. Too stuffy for her taste. A parlay in the best (and only) tavern in town would do the trick, allowing for hair to be free and hands bare of any gloves or pretentions. Charlotte was home again, welcomed by familiar charms and humbled by the simplest (and most unconstrained) of pleasures.

Alison had stolen a fellow’s cap, to which he did not mind; she mocked a man for a dance, guiding her sister from one wall to another in a wild waltz that had Charlotte breaking at the seams with laughter. Charlotte played along happily, haughtily holding her head high while failing to suppress a cheek-splitting grin.

“Don’t mind me, dance with him!” Charlotte decreed exuberantly when Alison herself was stolen away by the boy in question – the one who sang praised of her voice and ‘fancy footwork’, as he eloquently put. He was no Charlotte, but she didn’t deny him credit: he could keep up.

Charlotte herself was occupied with another gentleman – their neighbor, John – who, though older, had plenty of steps in him to spin her around with ease. She threw her head back and squealed delightfully, occupying herself with plenty of friends, some new but most old, to the spirit-lifting songs the fiddler so graciously shared.

They wobbled back home, shoeless and sore, but weightless in spirit. Their brothers would nurse an ache in the head for the next morning, no doubt, but the women were content in their blissful state as they walked the straight road home – though they may have zagged some bit. 


End file.
